Violent Night
by Kimberly T
Summary: COMPLETE! 33rd in the series. Everything had been going so well for the gargoyles lately, no real worries... Of course, it was too good to last. CHARACTER DEATH WARNING
1. In the Air Again

_**LIFE GOES ON**_

**Meanwhile, Back in New York…**

**_PART 5:_ _VIOLENT NIGHT_**

By Kimberly T. (e-mail: kimbertow at yahoo dot com)

Disclaimers & acknowledgments: I don't own the gargoyles concept; Disney does, as well as a few of the characters mentioned in this story. All the non-Disney-created characters are mine, but I'm not making a dime off this, so please don't sue.

Author's note: this takes place on the Monday after Thanksgiving of 1996; six nights after the Manhattan Clan left for their 'vacation' in New Orleans.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

**5.1: In The Air Again**

It was a lovely night out, crystal-clear if very chilly; all of New York City was enveloped in freezing temperatures. Luckily, gargoyles are built to handle cold weather, even gargoyle clones, and to Delilah, Malibu and Brentwood the cold merely felt invigorating as they frolicked above the rooftops. It was their turn to go gliding and stretch their wings tonight, and they were enjoying it to the fullest, laughing as they played tag and chased each other's tails.

Claw's furry hide was also equipped to handle cold fairly well, and gliding was good exercise, so he was keeping warm enough as he flew along, keeping an eye on his three gargoyle charges. That is, when he wasn't lovingly eyeing and nuzzling the bundle in his arms. Dana's thin human skin wasn't equipped for cold weather at all, and she was so bundled up in multiple layers of ragged clothing that only her eyes and mouth showed out of an old ski mask. But she had insisted on coming along, and as they were still newlyweds, Claw had willingly agreed.

Everyone who knew them agreed they made an interesting pair, but surprisingly well matched. Claw could not speak as a result of his mutation, but could hear perfectly fine, and stone-deaf Dana could not hear, but could speak well enough to be understood if necessary. Between themselves and a few other Labyrinth residents, they used sign language to communicate. If they had to communicate with somebody who didn't know sign language, and they were caught without pen and paper handy, then Claw would listen and interpret as needed for Dana (not needed often, as she was quite good at lip-reading), and she would speak for them both.

The clones knew a smattering of sign language now, but with his arms full of Dana Claw could hardly use it. But if the clones strayed too far away, Dana could shout at them to bring them back, or cry a warning if she and Claw saw a hazard they did not. So far tonight, though, they were staying well within range and keeping out of known danger zones, making Claw's escort job easy for a change.

Part of their sudden streak of caution surely came from their uncertainty that the skies were entirely safe for them yet. The clones had stayed down below street level for the better part of a week, after the Quarrymen had engaged in a battle with—well, _somebody_, lost eleven men in the process, and started screaming even louder than before for 'justice' and 'public safety,' meaning the destruction of all gargoyles. Those residents of the Labyrinth who were completely human had reported that the general mood on the streets was outraged, anxious… and definitely unfriendly towards people with wings.

But doubt had been cast on the Quarrymen's story from the very start, when Detective Bluestone had discovered scraps of gargoyle costumes at the scene of the battle. And three days after the battle, someone had discovered a body on top of an apartment building; a dead man wearing a gargoyle costume. A man who happened to be part of a known criminal organization, and the common consensus became that some members of this gang had dressed up in gargoyles costumes and donned stolen jetpacks, gone out to commit some crimes that could be blamed on the gargoyles, and had run into the Quarrymen instead.

Once the news had broken and the NYPD's official theory on the incident had been announced, the anti-gargoyle fervor had died down to a significant degree and the Quarrymen were now almost laughingstocks, for their apparent inability to tell criminals wearing costumes from _real_ gargoyles. But Talon had waited another two days after the news had hit the streets, before allowing any of the Labyrinth's 'kids' out to play. Last night, Sunday, he had allowed Hollywood and Burbank to go out under his watchful eye, and since nothing had happened to them, tonight it was the others' turn.

The rest of their sudden streak of caution could probably be attributed to the revelation of Delilah's pregnancy; if there was one thing that all gargoyles, even clones grown in artificial maturation chambers, instinctively took very seriously, it was protecting pregnant females and their eggs. There had even been some rumblings from her clan brothers that she should be staying in the Labyrinth all the time now, instead of going up to stretch her wings with them. But Delilah had most vehemently insisted that she go, and Maggie, also pregnant, had agreed that it was important for pregnant females to get a reasonable amount of exercise. So Delilah glided with them with ease, her change in profile (not huge and heavy with egg yet, but most definitely showing it) not yet limiting her ability to keep up with everyone but Brentwood.

Brentwood had just tagged Malibu as "it", and laughed as he dodged away from Malibu's attempted return tag and flew behind a wide chimney. Then they heard a pleased exclamation from him, and a flurrying of feathers, and a minute later he came walking back around the chimney base with a wide grin and both hands full. "Look! Pigeons!"

"Oooh, yummy!" Delilah exclaimed with a smile, and Malibu enthusiastically agreed as they landed beside their brother. Pigeons tasted much better than the usual meat in their diet, the rats they caught in the Labyrinth.

Brentwood pointed back the way he came and said there were more back there, but he handed one of his two fresh-killed pigeons to Delilah with an even wider grin, saying, "Just for you! Talon says you got to eat more."

"Talon's real smart," Delilah agreed with a grin as she began ripping the feathers off to get at the meat. "He says I have to eat enough for two, to feed the egg inside," as she paused to briefly caress her swelling belly with a smile.

Malibu scratched his black mane with a look of confusion as he fetched a pigeon for himself. "How does egg eat? Eggs don't have mouths."

"Dunno," Delilah shrugged as she began tearing into the bird. She mumbled between mouthfuls that when they got back, she would ask either Talon or Maggie, who was real smart too.

The males insisted that Delilah have another pigeon after finishing her first one, and she was happy to oblige. After finishing their impromptu snack and brushing the stray feathers off, they looked around for Claw and Dana. The two newlyweds had landed on the roof as well, but on the far side to let the clones eat in peace (while they all knew their gargoyles liked to eat fresh kills raw, most of the Labyrinth residents preferred not to witness it directly.) They were taking the opportunity to do some cuddling and nuzzling as they sat there with Dana on Claw's lap, and Delilah sighed heavily when she saw them. Malibu noticed, and said softly but shrewdly, "You still miss Thailog?"

"Always," she admitted with another sigh. "Sometimes, I feel so alone…"

"You still got us," Brentwood reminded her softly as he ran his talons through her mane.

"You have us, and you have egg," Malibu said just as softly as he lightly touched her belly. "With us and it, you not alone, ever." Delilah smiled sadly but nodded, as they walked back to their escorts.

To be continued… 


	2. Still Dangerous

**5.2: Still Dangerous**

On the docks on the eastern side of Manhattan, a group of eight men wearing dark blue uniforms and hoods were rappelling onto the roof of a warehouse. They reached the top and looked around while unslinging large blue sledgehammers strapped to their backs, but didn't find what they were looking for. One of the Quarrymen asked another, "Are you sure this is the roof you spotted them launching from?"

"Positive, sir!" the other replied with a salute.

"Well, there're no signs of gravel and stone shards to indicate they spend their days here," said the Quarryman lieutenant, identifiable not only by the extra emblems embroidered onto his uniform, but by the sidearm strapped to his belt, a Glock 9mm automatic. Recognizing that some of his Quarrymen were not particularly stable people, Castaway had decreed that only his lieutenants would be armed with other weapons besides net-mortars and Quarryhammers.

"But sir, look at this!" another man said excitedly, as he pointed down one side of a warehouse wall. "This section of wall is riddled with pockmarks from their claws!"

Everyone crowded around to look, one of them almost toppling off in his eagerness to see but restrained by two of his fellows. "Definitely claw-marks! And far too many to be from just one launching, even for two or more of them." The lieutenant turned to the spotter once more and said, "Describe them for me again, each one."

"All I could really see were their silhouettes against the moon, sir," the Quarryman reminded him. "But one was definitely female, and she was with two males, one with the standard wings and a large beak, and one with those 'kite-man' wings. And they were followed by another male, carrying somebody in his arms. I couldn't see his silhouette as clearly because of his passenger, but he was too big to be anything but their leader!"

"Their leader, and that traitorous bitch who foiled our first attack on him!" the Quarryman lieutenant growled. He'd been a member of the party that had found that big purple bastard sleeping in stone on a balcony, and been prevented from destroying him by a woman dressed for seduction. It hadn't been too hard to figure out why, even if everyone had agreed that it made their stomachs turn to even think about it. Now, he was looking forward to teaching that cunt a lesson, about screwing with monsters instead of her own kind. He'd enjoy teaching her, forcing the lesson down her throat… Yeah, he'd enjoy that a lot…

He tried to suppress the tent that was starting to form on his trousers as he said aloud, "That's over half of the known flock in this city! If we can nail them all, we'll not only avenge our fallen brothers, but we'll strike a telling blow for our kind and be that much closer to making our streets safe again!" His crew spontaneously cheered his rousing speech, but he waved that aside and said, "Everyone get down to that alley on the double; if they're using this roof as a frequent launching point, their lair must be nearby! We'll set up an ambush for when they return from their nightly reign of terror, and show them that we, all of humanity, aren't going to take it anymore!" Another rousing cheer went up as they scrambled for their rappelling ropes again.

Once they were down in the alley, he directed them to unload their net-cannons and other equipment from the two vans they'd arrived in, congratulating himself on managing to load up on extra of these expensive new weapons when other squads were only issued two each. Then he directed that the vans be driven a few blocks away, so they wouldn't be seen by the gargoyles as they returned and forewarned that the Quarrymen were waiting for them. The drivers came jogging back as the rest of the squad was finding concealing cover among the dumpsters, old oil drums and suchlike that lined the alley walls.

_To be continued…_


	3. Ambush

**5.3: Ambush**

Having been out and about for nearly two hours, Claw decided that the clones had gotten enough fresh air and exercise for the night. Besides, he _really_ wanted to continue his earlier 'conversation' with Dana, back in the privacy of their own quarters. So he had Dana call out in her eerie-sounding voice, "Deh-lah-lah, Bret-wood, Mal-boo! We go home now!"

There was the expected ritual protest about going back so early, but the clones obediently fell in line as they turned back towards the eastern dock entrance they'd come out of. With good stiff breezes usually coming off the water there, it was the best entrance/exit for winged folk coming and going to the Labyrinth. They cruised along, enjoying their last few minutes in the air, before they spiraled in for a landing in the alley between warehouses that contained the camouflaged entrance to their home.

They'd had a lovely outing, they were relaxed and enjoying themselves and off their guard, not expecting any trouble at all. So they were taken completely by surprise when the stacks of empty crates, barrels and dumpsters in the alley suddenly sprouted men in dark blue uniforms, aiming weapons as their leader shouted, "_Now_!" Even as they realized they were being ambushed, four Quarrymen fired electrified nets at them.

Claw and Dana, highest in the spiral, were hit just off-center by a net together, and roared and screamed in pain as they were hit with the electrical wallop it packed. Claw's mutated form was designed to handle and even generate electricity, but a sudden influx of it was still capable of hurting him, even killing him if it was too strong. This charge wasn't strong enough to kill a mutate, but it still stunned him badly. In his arms, Dana's multiple layers of clothing insulated her somewhat from the shared charge, but enough of it got through to knock her silly; she dropped out of Claw's arms even as he tumbled from the sky. Only the fact that the edge of their descending spiral had been passing over the roof of a warehouse when they were hit, and so tumbled onto the roof instead of to the alley far below, saved them from dying on the spot.

Just as had happened to Lexington several weeks ago, Malibu had managed to dodge part of the spreading net but not all of it, and the shock as one edge slapped him in passing stunned him into unconsciousness. He dropped from the sky like a stone from over twenty feet up, and hit so hard he damn near bounced. One wing took most of the impact, and crumpled as both his primary strut and finger-strut snapped like twigs.

Delilah, almost to the ground already and with less time to dodge, was hit by a net dead-center, but due to either improper loading or an error in manufacture, the net wasn't crackling with electricity when it hit her. But it still tangled her wings and arms, and she shrieked in fear and rage as she fell heavily to the ground below.

Brentwood, the quickest and most agile of all the gargoyle clones, had managed to dodge entirely the net that had been fired at him, and glided away in a purple streak across the sky, his huge red eyes even wider in terror. Those men were trying to hurt him! But he was fast, he'd gotten away, and now he could go with his friends to safety…

But they weren't with him! The bad men had gotten them!

Already nearly three blocks away by the time he'd realized he was alone in the sky, Brentwood wheeled about, then turned again, his heart pounding in his throat as he tried hard to think of what to do. He was alone, and the smallest of his brothers, and he didn't know where any other Labyrinth entrances were, so he couldn't go for help from Talon and his other brothers; what could he do?

As he wheeled and spun in the sky, the wind shifted slightly, and he heard an angry shriek carried faintly to his ears: Delilah! The bad men were hurting her! And he was a gargoyle; gargoyles _fought_ bad men, they protected their territory and their friends! Brentwood chose his course and turned back, screaming a war cry into the night.

_To be continued…_


	4. Deadly Violence

**5.4: Deadly Violence**

Delilah, still shrieking in rage and fear, struggled to get out of the net but did not succeed before the Quarrymen converged on their fallen prey. "Bad men! Bad men! You let us go now!" she shouted even as they quickly looped stout chains around her from shoulders to knees, completely pinning her arms and wings and hobbling her as well.

The lieutenant directed two of his men to wrap chains around the unconscious Malibu as well before he could come to, and they scrambled to do so, uncaring of his broken wing. One of them pointed out as they set the huge lock in place, "Sir, the colors on these gargoyles don't match the descriptions we were given!"

"Then we've found a new nest of them!" The lieutenant retorted. "But we'll make damn sure they won't spread any further!" He scowled up at the roof that Claw and Dana had landed on. "We'll need to summon the hovercycle squad before we deal with their leader, and the traitor bitch with him; it's too risky to climb back up there and deal with them without covering fire. But we've already got two of these monsters captured, and ready to face justice at the general assembly! Someone go get the vans, and--"

His words were cut off by a screeching roar of rage, as Brentwood dove to his siblings' defense.

Brentwood did the web-winged gargoyle version of a strafing run; he leveled out to a flat streak across the alley, doing forty miles an hour at only five feet off the ground, slashing with outstretched claws at face after face alongside his path. Men screamed and staggered back with their hoods slashed to ribbons and bloody gashes carved in the faces underneath; one of them turned his head enough that he lost both his hood and his right ear, the cartilage ripped clean off the skull.

Brentwood wheeled and came about for a second pass, and by the end of that run there was no one left standing; all the Quarrymen had dropped to the deck, either screaming and clutching at their blood-soaked hoods or just cowering with their hands wrapped around their heads. But Delilah had also fallen down, knocked over by a Quarryman trying to dodge Brentwood's claws. Wrapped in heavy chains, she wriggled and flopped on the pavement like a fish out of water, trying desperately to get to her feet.

Brentwood came back to land next to Delilah, and began searching for the way to unfasten her chains. "Where lock?" he hissed to her as he rolled her this way and that, searching with increasing haste. Finally, he spotted the lock, fastened at the small of her back, and hopped over her to get better leverage for breaking it.

Just as he gripped the lock in his taloned hands, Delilah shrieked, "Brentwood, run! They coming!" Not that Brentwood needed the warning; he could hear the curses and snarls of the men getting to their feet, and the crackle of Quarryhammers being charged. But he spared them only a quick, frantic glance before yanking hard on the lock of ultra-tough tempered steel. Delilah was egg-carrying; he had to save her!

Just as he broke the lock, it finally occurred to Brentwood to simply pick Delilah up and run with her on foot, out of the alley to somewhere that they could hide long enough to remove the chains. Web-winged gargoyles generally run on all fours, but Brentwood managed to heave Delilah into his arms, and started running with her even as the Quarrymen began pounding after them.

He ran as fast as he could while carrying her, but he was unused to it and awkward, and he hadn't gone more than a dozen steps when the lead Quarryman chasing them stepped on his tail. The sudden yank threw him even more off balance; he and Delilah squawked together as he fell to the ground and she tumbled out of his arms, hitting the ground a few feet in front of him. He tried to scramble back to his feet, reaching for her… just as the first electrified hammerblow fell on his back. With a howl of pain, he collapsed back onto the pavement, unconscious.

Delilah had rolled away and was still struggling to get to her feet, but simply couldn't get the leverage to do so while she was bound with chains. But then she received unexpected help, help she certainly wouldn't have wanted; she was yanked up by her hair and the lead from her chains, by the Quarrymen's leader. After wrenching her to her feet, the lieutenant shouted "No chains for that one; we'll kill it here and now!" as he pointed at Brentwood with a hand that was bloody from the slash wound on his face. And with shouts of rage and exultation, his men lifted their energized hammers high, and began using them on Brentwood.

"_Brentwood_!" Delilah shrieked in fear and sympathetic agony, as she watched them rain hammerblow after crackling hammerblow on the unconscious gargoyle. "Stop, please stop!"

But there was no stopping these Quarrymen. They were consumed by mob madness, the same sort of temporary insanity that causes needless death when peaceful group protests become riots, as well as their hatred of gargoyles. Ordinary thought had been replaced by mindless, violent action, and they only stopped when Brentwood's charred and bloodied skin suddenly changed to dark gray, his flesh to stone, that broke apart and crumbled to gravel and dust before their eyes.

Delilah had never seen a gargoyle turn to stone at night and crumble before, but she instinctively knew what it meant. Brentwood, her brother, was dead.

"BRENTWOOD! BRENTWOOD!" she howled, her hybrid eyes blazing yellow-orange with rage and grief. The Quarrymen only laughed, an ugly sound, as they triumphantly raised their hammers high. They had done it, they had killed a monster!

Their lieutenant, still holding the lead to Delilah's chains, laughed as well as he shouted, "Good work, Quarrymen! But we're not finished yet; there's more to deal with!" as he meaningfully yanked on her chain. Delilah turned to look at him, her eyes still blazing…

These Quarrymen had failed to take three important facts into account earlier, when capturing Delilah, but it wasn't entirely their fault, since they had no way of knowing about the first two. These facts are:

1. Delilah had been taught virtually everything she knew about fighting and warfare by Thailog, her former master, who had created and programmed her to be his 'perfect mate.'

2. Unlike most gargoyles, Thailog was actually quite fond of guns and similar weaponry, and it had pleased him to show Delilah how to handle a few of them.

3. Gargoyle tails are highly prehensile.

Even as the lieutenant gloated, Delilah's tail snaked up to his hip and snatched the Glock 9mm automatic out of its holster, and the tip threaded itself through the trigger. He had just started to realize that something was wrong when the pistol was tucked under his chin and triggered, blowing his brains out through the top of his head.

The gun had a full 15-bullet clip in it, and Delilah used up every last bullet as she held her tail up in front of her and fired, screaming incoherently, at the clustered Quarrymen as they stood there and gaped at her, at first too stunned to even move. Rage and grief spoiled her aim, and it was quite frankly difficult to shoot from the tail, but they were only a few feet away in plain sight, and nearly every shot hit flesh if not dead on target. Four of the five who had killed Brentwood died on the spot, and the fifth one was sprawled unconscious and bleeding as she continued firing, clicking the trigger even when there were no bullets left, shouting in between sobs, "_Die_! _Crumble_! Die in dust! For Brentwood! Crumble!"

The seventh and eighth Quarrymen, the ones who'd been standing guard over the unconscious Malibu, had instinctively turned and ran once they'd realized what was happening. One of them, who must have won track records in high school, was out of sight even before Delilah ran out of bullets. But the other one, slower-moving, was still barely within hearing range when he realized that the clip had run out. He shouted for his former companion to come back, the monster was out of bullets, but the other one either didn't hear him or didn't believe him and kept going. So he came back alone, warily advancing.

The Quarryman couldn't help flinching when Delilah saw him and turned the gun on him, but when no more bullets came out he gave her a vicious smile through the slash Brentwood had made in his hood and kept slowly walking. "All out of ammo, huh? Well ain't that a crying shame," he taunted her. "That's the problem with guns, see; they run out of ammo. But this doesn't," as he picked up the Quarryhammer he'd dropped earlier. With a vicious twist of the handle, he charged it up, and the business end crackled and faintly glowed blue with electricity.

Delilah threw the gun at him as hard as she could with her tail, but he was far enough away to have time to dodge. "Ah-ah-ah! You're not going to get rid of me that easily. See, you've just shot a whole bunch of my buddies, and--"

"They kill my brother!" she shouted at him, even as she retreated backwards as fast as she could while still hobbled by the chains.

"They killed a monster!" he shouted back. "You spawn of Satan are all monsters, and I'm going to send you back to your master!"

Delilah supposed the thought should have been comforting, to know that she was shortly going to rejoin her beloved master Thailog, but it wasn't, as she kept backing away. She had an egg inside her, Thailog's egg, and she wanted so much for it to hatch into a baby gargoyle for her to love and cuddle, but she couldn't do that if he killed her and the egg with her. She didn't want to lose the egg; she didn't want to die…

He was close enough now to see the raw terror and pleading in her eyes, but it only made him smile nastily through the slash in his hood as he advanced further, raising his hammer high...

Students of physics and electronics will already know that a capacitor is an electronic component that can store and release electrical charges, up to a certain point. If an electrical charge is sent into the capacitor at a higher voltage than it can handle, the capacitor will burn out, and occasionally, under an excessively high charge, even blow apart.

The circuitry inside Quarryhammers makes them the equivalent to very, very large capacitors, designed to store a lot of electrical energy and to release it upon contact. And they were charged to full capacity before leaving the Quarrymen's headquarters. Unlike those hammers that had beaten Brentwood to death, this one had not yet released any of its charge and was still full up.

Therefore, when a bolt of a few thousand volts' worth of pure electricity hit the Quarryhammer from above, it overloaded and blew apart in a most spectacular fashion.

Delilah screamed in surprise, fear and pain, blinded by the light of the explosion, as some of the shrapnel from the Quarryhammer hit her. A piece grazed her scalp, another one bounced off her chains, and a third tore a hole in her wing near the strut, while the sudden intense heat that accompanied the explosion baked the skin of her face into a first-degree burn. But the Quarryman fared far worse, his hands turning to hamburger even as a large piece of shrapnel tore through his hood and embedded itself in his brain. He was dead before he hit the concrete.

_To be continued…_


	5. Aftermath

**5.5: Aftermath**

Up on the warehouse roof, Claw looked in appalled horror at what he'd done. When he'd crawled to the edge of the roof, seen the Quarryman advancing on the helpless Delilah and fired off a bolt of electricity at him, he'd meant only to stun the man, stop him from hurting her. He hadn't meant to kill him!

The thought that he hadn't meant to kill kept running gibbering through his skull, and were even the first words he signed to Dana when she crawled up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. She nodded grimly, then told him firmly in sign language to get them both down to the alley floor ASAP.

He jumped from the roof with her, spreading his wings to brake their descent and make their landing more-or-less gentle. Once on the ground, he directed him to tend to Malibu while she handled Delilah. Delilah had backed or fallen against the alley wall, and was slumped against it whimpering, still blinded from the explosion. She flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching, but Dana crooned in her eerily distinctive voice, "Is me, Dana, is only me... Bad men all dead, you safe now…" as she found the lock Brentwood had broken before dying and started unfastening and unwrapping her chains.

Claw winced at Malibu's broken wing as he strained to break the lock on his chains, then unwrapped them from around him. The movement and jagged shards of pain it brought roused the gargoyle to unwilling consciousness, and he fluttered his eyes open and croaked, "What… happen?"

"Malibu!" Delilah cried out in relief that he at least was still alive, even as memory and grief came crashing down again. "Oh, Brentwood, they killed Brentwood!"

"Brentwood!" Malibu lurched to his feet, brushing off Claw's concerned hand as he staggered over to his clan-sister. Pain and grief throwing all his language lessons out the window, he begged her, "No dead, please wrong, no dead!"

Delilah could only shake her head dumbly as she gestured blindly over to where the Brentwood-shaped outline of gravel lying amidst the dead Quarrymen. Claw and Dana stared at it in horror, with silent tears running down their cheeks, while Malibu fell against Delilah with a howl of grief and they wept together.

After only a couple of minutes of grieving together, their storm of tears was interrupted with firm taps on their shoulders. Malibu glared at Dana, but she said slowly and more-or-less clearly even as the tears trickled down her cheeks, "Deh-lah-lah still no see?" When Delilah squinted at her but admitted she still saw only big purple splotches, Dana continued, "You go with Claw home safe. Mal-boo with me here, help hide dead people stuff. No let bodies stay, or bad bad trouble." The sentences were literal translations of the words if she'd been signing them instead, and might have confused some people, but the gargoyle clones understood perfectly, and silently complied.

Claw looked worriedly over his shoulder at Dana as he escorted Delilah away. He couldn't decide if he was more concerned for her safety, since the police had probably already been alerted to the sound of gunfire and were likely on their way at that very moment, or by the fact that she was handling all this with such grim competence that she had to have done it before…

* * *

Grinding his beak against the pain, Malibu grimly ignored his broken wing as he grabbed a body by the collar with each hand and began hauling them through the hidden entrance to the Labyrinth.

As she began hauling on a third corpse, Dana reflected bitterly that she had indeed done this sort of cleanup before. She'd hated it then, and she hated it now, but she knew all too well that sometimes, it was necessary. Just like her former family and home, the Labyrinth needed secrecy for safety, and sometimes it was necessary to protect the protectors.

* * *

The police had indeed been alerted to the gunfire, and shortly thereafter two patrol cars drove up to the alley between the warehouses from where their caller had said the shots had been heard. But when they got there, they found only a messy, spreading pool of oil mixed with bright red hydraulic fluid, obviously spilled from a couple of 55-gallon drums that were lying tipped on their sides in plain sight. There was a small scattering of gravel in the middle of the spill, but otherwise nothing amiss; no bodies, no guns, not even any spent cartridges lying about. "One helluva mess to clean up, but otherwise, it looks like a false alarm," one officer at the scene said, and two of the others concurred.

"I'm not so sure," the fourth officer said thoughtfully, eyes narrowed. "Something here just doesn't feel right…"

* * *

Down inside a chamber just inside the Labyrinth entrance that they had closed just barely in time to avoid the police, Dana silently piled in a corner all the Quarryhammers and net-mortars they had found with the bodies. Then she dropped beside that pile a dilapidated cardboard box, containing the gun, spent bullet casings and gobbets of flesh and brains that they had hastily scooped up, before opening and tipping over the barrels of oil and other fluids to hide the spilled blood. Then she just as silently directed Malibu in pantomime to strip the bodies of their dark blue uniforms and all other clothing.

The clothing would be burned later on, while the bodies would be tied to weights and brought back to the surface when the coast was clear, to be sunk deep in the Hudson River. And Dana promised herself that she and Father Sullivan would say a silent Mass for their souls next Sunday night; it was all the burial ceremony these men could be allowed. Some of them were carrying wallets in their pockets, which might contain money the Labyrinth's coffers could use, but she dropped them all into the second improvised sack she'd made from a shirt without opening them. If any of them were opened, they might have identification and pictures inside, and she desperately _didn't_ want to know these men's names, or whether or not they were leaving families behind.

She was stripping her third body of its Quarryman clothing when she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Malibu jerking back from one of the bodies he'd been working on. She got up and went over, to see him staring at the man's chest, which was slowly but perceptibly still rising and falling. One of the seven bodies they'd brought down was still alive. Bleeding heavily from wounds to the chest and shoulder, but still alive. For long moments they stared at him, neither saying nor signing anything. Then their eyes met in grim understanding.

The heavy thud of an uncharged Quarryhammer hitting flesh echoed through the otherwise silent chamber. When the echoes died, Dana and Malibu quietly, trembling slightly, went back to work.

When they had finished, they bundled the clothes together for burning and took them along as they staggered after the others. They also carried Dana's outermost coat, bundled around a quantity of gravel; all they could quickly collect of Brentwood's remains.

_To be continued…_


	6. Waiting and Mourning

**5.6: Waiting and Mourning**

Maggie and Ruth tended the gargoyles' wounds as best they could from the few medical supplies Dr. Lacey and the clinic nurses always left out for after-hours use, bandaging Delilah's scalp and wing and improvising splints for Malibu's wing. While they did so, Claw and Dana signed their story to Talon and he relayed it to the other Labyrinth residents. There was a great outcry of rage and grief when they learned of Brentwood's death, and several of the more excitable residents swore bloody vengeance even though Dana assured them that those who had actually killed him were dead.

Talon added grimly after their recital and his translation was over, "If it hadn't been outright war between gargoyles and Quarrymen before, then it will be now. And we're going to be square in the middle of it… I want a total lockdown, sealing all known entrances, _right now._ Dobbins, you know all five of the people we've got out scrounging at the moment; find them and guide them to Our Lady of Guardian Angels' tonight for shelter, and tell Father Sullivan what's happened. Let's move, people, before that Quarryman who ran can get his buddies down here! We've got gargoyles, women and children to protect!" As people scrambled to do his bidding, he added, "After we're secure… then we can mourn."

* * *

Through the rest of the long night, people tried to take care of and comfort each other. Jody and Judy huddled and cried with the grieving clones, while the twins' mother and several others brought them bowls of pigeon stew, telling Delilah especially that she had to keep her strength up for the egg's sake; Brentwood would have wanted it that way.

There was no body to bury, but Talon decided that it was time to start a 'Hall of Memories' to honor their dead. They had already lost one resident, sixty-year-old Agnes, to pneumonia three days ago; Dr. Lacey and the clinic nurses had done what they could for her, but she had steadfastly refused to be taken up to a hospital and more sophisticated medical care, and in the end her aged body had simply stopped fighting to live. The Labyrinth residents had carried her body in solemn procession up to the surface in the middle of the night, and left it on the steps of a hospital with her name and all the information they knew about her pinned to her threadbare coat, trusting the city to notify whatever next of kin they could find and give her a decent burial in the local "pauper's field."

Now, the residents cleared an unused chamber of all debris and chiseled onto one of the walls, "Agnes Thompson. Born January 1936-died November 25, 1996. Always a lady." Then just before dawn they brought the gargoyles in, and Delilah, who could read and write a little already, inscribed with her talons on the wall as the tears flowed down her cheeks, "Brentwood. Born August 1996-Died November 30, 1996. Our brother. He died protecting."

At the time of the inscribing, Dana and Claw were not present; they had already gone to their room hours before, to deal with their own roles in the night's tragedy. They lay for a long time on the bed, holding each other tightly and occasionally trembling. When sleep finally came to them, it brought nightmares for them both, but when they awoke from those nightmares with shouts and yowls, they were able to comfort each other.

Sleep finally came for the gargoyles when dawn rose over the city above, and found them still huddled together in a knot of grief. Gargoyles can dream, too, and both Delilah and Malibu had nightmares, but for them there was no hope of reprieve by waking up before sunset.

* * *

For three long days and nights, the Labyrinth was in lockdown. The dock entrance to the Labyrinth was not just sealed, but permanently blocked and cemented shut, never to be used again. All other entrance routes were closed down and camouflaged except one little-used one (little used because it stank to high heaven, running through one of the sewers), by which they posted a constant guard equipped with shrill whistles for alerting the rest if anyone unauthorized came through. Street-savvy runners held their noses as they went back and forth through that one entrance to convey messages between the Labyrinth and its helpers, and to listen anxiously for the slightest rumors that the Quarrymen were planning another attack.

For three tension-filled days and nights, they lived off their stored food supplies and kept quiet, speaking in hushed voices even in their homes far below the surface. For all three days and nights Talon bitterly second-guessed himself over his earlier decree that no weapons be allowed in the Labyrinth, and debated if he should have some of his more stable people train for defense on the captured Quarryhammers. (Maggie did her best to calm and reassure him, but persuaded him to keep the hammers locked away for now, as the gargoyles were still too traumatized to be able to cope with their friends and neighbors wielding the very instruments that had killed their brother.) For three anxious days and nights, they waited, and worried, and prayed.

Finally, when they'd heard no hints of retaliation, Talon said it was okay to reopen the common entrances again. Slowly, their lives returned to normal, though with a few sad changes; the gargoyle clones still grieved over their lost brother and now declined to return to the surface for exercise, preferring to run or gallop on all fours down some of the longer unused tunnels instead. Delilah, hardest hit by all that had happened, took to staying in their chambers and huddling on the little nest she'd made of old blankets, rocking back and forth and quietly keening. Sensing her grief, little Fluffy kept her company every night while her remaining brothers brought her fresh rats and other food.

As the Labyrinth's scroungers went through the streets collecting useful things, they collected information as well. And one thing that they learned was that the Quarrymen were indeed in an uproar again, but this time as much a puzzled one as a vengeful one. The Quarrymen knew one of their squads had vanished, expensive equipment and all (and of course were blaming the gargoyles for it), but knew nothing about exactly how it had happened. When this information was brought back to the Labyrinth, Talon heaved a huge sigh and said, "Thank God for small favors. But I wonder what happened to the eighth guy?"

* * *

The eighth Quarryman hadn't stopped running until he'd reached the alley containing the dark blue vans he and his companion had stashed there. He'd thought as he rounded the last corner that he was almost safe; safe at last from the monster that had killed his squad! And he knew just what he'd do when he got into one of the vans. He'd drive like a bat out of Hell until he reached Headquarters; then he'd give a full report to Castaway about his squad's slaughter and about how these monsters knew how to use guns. Then he'd head straight for Kansas City, and never return to New York again, not even to collect the furniture from his apartment. He'd had enough of this crazy city…

That was exactly what he was going to do when he reached the vans, only there was a slight problem. Namely, the group of car thieves that were presently occupied in 'boosting' the vans, to haul them off to their chop shop for dismantling and selling for parts.

When he burst onto the scene, both he and the ring of thieves froze for a second. Then their leader counted only one of him, unarmed, against his entire crew. One silenced pistol shot later, the crew resumed their work of hauling off the vans. And Castaway and his Quarryman organization never did find out just what had happened to Squad Two.

**THE END**


End file.
